I adored the rain. The way it made the roads go slick beneath a translucent foam. My eyes slipped from person to person as they crossed over the auburn cobblestone sprayed white. Most were gripped by the water, liquid hands wrapping around their ankles and pulling them under. They didn’t spare Mother Nature a second thought, so why should she?

A light chuckle escaped my throat as I drew invisible swirls on the silver stirrer dawdling in my cappuccino.

Fools, I muttered to myself.

Despite the café’s cloth umbrella swinging in the thinnest of breezes above me, I returned my eyes to the scene. Who would the rain slay next?

Before I could answer, the clink of a bell and harsh, heeled footsteps obnoxiously clouded the silence.

“Why do you always sit in the dark?” Lindsey asked, fiddling with her badge that read ‘Owner.’

I knew she was a blonde—dyed, of course—but a stranger would’ve never known it. Not as her curls, which sat like lifeless birds on her shoulders, were wrapped in the night. Although I couldn’t see it, I could smell the coffee stain on her khaki apron.

“It’s peaceful,” I replied. “No one’s talking to me…at least, they normally don’t.” My gaze briefly shifted to her.

What started as a chuckle on her lips soured into a scoff. “Whatever,” Lindsey mumbled. “Get pneumonia out here, for all I care.”

Frankly, I didn’t care enough to even consider if she cared. I let her sulk in silence.

Finally, the owner quit tapping her foot and retreated to the inside. Just as she started to yank open the door, I turned my head ever so slightly.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” I mocked. “You try the same tactic every storm season. Perhaps if you took a moment to accept the mundanity of this world, you wouldn’t be so disappointed. Because that’s all people do. Disappoint.”

“What happened to you?” she whispered. Then the door slammed behind her, nearly shattering its glass.

Unfortunately, she would never understand. Even if I told her. Her ego was more fragile than that doorframe. Still, my mind couldn’t help but answer her question.

Flashes of my former self flew through me. Fragmented images all coalesced into the final picture of my youth: a grave. Thunder growled like a fanged dog as the clouds rolled over in laughter. But no rain came. Not yet. Only amber flashes of lightning. Taunting me.

I stared as my father, decked out in a crimson flannel that was not always crimson, dumped a limp body into a coffin-sized scrap of dirt. Tears spilled over my eyes—the only solace I would be blessed with that night. But he never heard my whimpers. Never cared. All I could do was watch the man I trusted bury the woman I loved most. Then he raised his shovel…and dug. Until all of her was buried. And a part of me with it. Only the whistling forest trees expressed their condolences.

As if the sky could hear my thoughts, an electrical bolt, white-hot, flew into the pavement mere inches from me. I didn’t flinch. I’d witnessed worse things. This was normal. Nothing. Until him.

As soon as the bolt faded, a man stood in its stead. Although not close enough to touch me, I could feel the air grow colder. A welcome change. The moisture that sank into the metal of the table my cup sat on grew too warm. Too humid.

“Do you need something?” I snapped, struggling to contain my unwarranted curiosity.

He swerved around to where I was sitting, hopping onto the table. At his weight, it nearly crumpled.

“Careful,” I nearly shrieked, clutching the cup between my hands. The coffee sloshed, brown tinging the porcelain rim.

“Don’t worry,” he said dryly, “I have a gift for avoiding calamities.”

“Oh, really?” I instigated. “Or maybe it’s because you’re the one orchestrating them. Then you leave others to clean up the mess. I’ve seen your type before.”

“Have you?” he questioned, edging his nose toward mine until our faces were barely a centimeter apart.

Reluctantly, all the breath left my body. Or it stilled, I couldn’t tell anymore. Everything around me was moving, as it always did. Yet I couldn’t see it. Couldn’t feel it. At that moment, it was just me…and him.

Then, the man ducked his head, dunking his finger into my cup. I should’ve been repulsed. But the fluid motion of his arm pinned me to my seat—I was captive in my own mind. In my own heart.

“Hmm,” he said, slurping the liquid off his finger. “Strange. Never met anyone who puts honey in their coffee.”

He must’ve reached the bottom of the cappuccino, as the thick golden substance dribbled down his chin. Before, the honey was merely honey—an everyday commodity. Yet, on his lips, it shone like the sun. Unrestrained yet…perfect. Somehow.

“Well, now you have, stranger,” I answered once my tongue could master words again. “Who are you?”

The man, with eyes as luscious as forest foliage, didn’t break my gaze. He slicked back his ebony hair—presumably ebony, since it melted into the shadows—rain droplets darting in every direction.

“Who do I look like to you?” 

I cleared my throat. “My worst nightmare…but one I would often dream about.”

His mouth curved into a sickle-shaped smirk, sliding off the table.

“Come with me,” he said, outstretching a hand. “Evaluate your theory.”

Any remnants of logic in my mind rounded into cymbals and crashed into each other. A thousand reasons to deny his offer swirled inside, but their collective cacophony of noises drowned itself out.

And I took his hand.